


make me feel

by kronotriga



Series: she keeps me warm [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Asexuality Spectrum, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Lesbian Character, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Time Skip, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29272050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronotriga/pseuds/kronotriga
Summary: Kiyoomi places unflinching hands on Atsumu’s knees, eyes darker than Atsumu has ever seen. “Atsumu,” she falters but continues more confidently, “I definitely don’t have experience but I want to show you how much I love and want you. I need you to clearly tell me if you want me to eat you out or not.”“Omi!” she bursts out scandalized. Of course Kiyoomi would just come right out and say it.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: she keeps me warm [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128053
Comments: 8
Kudos: 97





	make me feel

**Author's Note:**

> highly recommended [listening](https://youtu.be/tGRzz0oqgUE)  
> I love janelle monae so much and have inextricably linked this song with sakuatsu in my mind but it's especially fitting for them as sapphics :^) unfortunately grimes is associated with this [other song](https://youtu.be/PaYvlVR_BEc) I also love but it's still worth checking out!

Kiyoomi waits patiently for Atsumu to cry herself out, hoping her touch is calming as she mimics Atsumu's previous strokes over her hair. She hasn’t had the pleasure of such simple but effective skinship before, other than maybe when comforted by her mother when sick as a young child. But she knows Atsumu thrives on physical contact, as evidenced by her observation of innumerable high fives, back slaps, and hip checks over the years, on every team Atsumu has ever been a part of. While her skinship with Osamu is born from the aggression of competing with someone her entire life, prior to last night she had been studiously careful about never breaching Kiyoomi’s personal space unless she both telegraphed her movement and asked for explicit permission. Even for the photo and first kiss, Atsumu made sure to ask and Kiyoomi has never felt uncomfortable or denied her. 

So Kiyoomi hopes she is truly offering Atsumu reassurance despite her lack of experience, providing physical proof that she is here to stay because her mind and heart are made up. Now that she thinks about it it’s probably a good thing she’s wearing Atsumu’s fleece sweater, surely the familiar texture and scent are comforting. And would definitely provide better cushioning than Kiyoomi’s thin tank top underneath. Kiyoomi imagines being in this same position sans the sweater and blushes at the thought of Atsumu’s arms wound so tightly around her middle that she could slide her hands up the back of the tank top over bare skin, and the hair on her fortunately covered arms stands on end due to her less than chaste imagination.

When Atsumu’s sniffles finally die out a few minutes later Kiyoomi leads her into the bathroom to wash her face, handing over her softest towel, and she sets the electric kettle to boil as she slides two portions of mackerel into the grill. The rice cooker beeps its completion right as the kettle whistles so Kiyoomi prepares a cup of chamomile tea, sliding it across the kitchen island on a coaster to Atsumu as she returns. Other than the redness around her eyes Atsumu looks remarkably put together for having spent a considerable amount of time crying, if still dressed down in her thermal shirt and joggers. Maybe she should take a nap after breakfast, or lunch by this point. Kiyoomi wouldn’t mind joining her, especially if they relocate to her double bed instead of the couch they can definitely confirm is way too small for both tall athletes.

But first they should eat. Kiyoomi scoops out the rice evenly into the bowls Atsumu had set out earlier, removing the mackerel from the grill with chopsticks to lay on top, and turns around to find Atsumu has already opened the jar of umeboshi for her, holding it out with a small but genuine smile that still reaches her tear-bruised eyes. Kiyoomi’s heart quivers with fondness and she appreciates that they can both show love through actions, smiling back at her girlfriend as she plucks out an umeboshi. Can she call her that? Maybe there is a bit more to still discuss after all.

Atsumu beats her to it. “Omi, are we datin’?”

* * *

“Yes, I was under that impression.” OK, they _are_ on the same page and Atsumu can push about terms of endearment later. Kiyoomi cocks her head in that way that says she is measuring her words carefully. “Are you worried about breaking the news to the team?” Going public, coming out to family, goes with the implication.

Atsumu has to shake her head; her family has long known about her general disinterest in anything apart from kissing women and it’s never really come up with the team but she can’t imagine it would be an issue. “Nah, Omi, I ain’t worried about that for my sake but you’re still a rookie. You’d be pestered constantly by the media for months, probably, and have folks diggin’ up your college dates.”

“I was openly out and part of the queer student circle on campus, it’s not exactly a secret.”

Well, not so much to worry about, then. Atsumu takes slow sips of her tea as Kiyoomi carries one bowl at a time to the coffee table, clearing the almost empty packet of fried chicken and ice cream tub for her and disposing of them. She’ll have to get Kiyoomi more of that ice cream, as often as they can reasonably indulge, before the seasonal campaign ends. It would certainly be enjoyable to lick more right off of Kiyoomi’s lips. Whoops, focus on the meal and conversation, Atsumu. Kiyoomi probably doesn’t wanna kiss her after she cried all over her, though at least it was Atsumu’s own sweater her nose was running on. Maybe she should subtly try to convince Kiyoomi to swap it out for something warm of her own.

Oh no, she totally missed what Kiyoomi said as she returns from the kitchen, facing a quizzical expression at the lack of response. Atsumu wants to press her finger right between Kiyoomi’s eyebrows and see if it would make her laugh. She thinks Kiyoomi is fond enough of her that she would at least get an indulgent smile.

“Sorry, Omi, I was spacin’ out. What’d you say?”

Ah, there it is, the slow upwards curl of her lips, the best Atsumu has ever tasted or wanted to kiss a second time.

“I said, I’m not ashamed of loving you. Do you need me to repeat it again?”

Atsumu’s heart gives a lurch in her chest. “Omi, you can’t just say that, you’ll make me tear up again!” Her mouth really does feel a little wobbly but the feeling vanishes as it lifts into a grin when she sees Kiyoomi pat the couch next to her in invitation. She’s never been so close to be able to literally knock knees with Kiyoomi as they eat, Atsumu usually relegated to the couch on her lonesome with Kiyoomi in her recliner, but now Kiyoomi’s hip is pressed up against hers in the tight space. In fact, Atsumu’s entire right side is pleasantly warm from Kiyoomi’s long swathe of body heat beside her, and it’s so _distracting_. 

Atsumu keeps turning her head to watch Kiyoomi eat, fascinated by her long fingers handling her chopsticks. Kiyoomi’s elegance even in something so mundane isn’t something new, but she’d never allowed herself to really watch her so intently before, always feeling a little guilty about invading Kiyoomi’s privacy. But now that she has permission to touch, and taste, Atsumu must also be allowed to follow Kiyoomi’s every movement with her eyes, fixated on how her mouth just barely opens wide enough for every bite. And she must have excellent control of her tongue, Atsumu never spying it peek out like Atsumu’s own is prone to.

Kiyoomi finally turns her head to face her and quirks a brow so Atsumu shovels the last of her rice into her mouth, slower than Kiyoomi at eating for once. She gives a satisfied smile when Kiyoomi rises to collect and take their bowls to put in the sink, opening her arms to ask for a hug as Kiyoomi returns. The slight blush that spreads across those high cheekbones warms her heart but Kiyoomi holds up a hand apologetically.

“Just a minute, ‘Tsumu, promise I’ll be right back.”

Atsumu nods, “Sure thing, Omi.” She knows Kiyoomi has set routines, including brushing her teeth immediately after eating, so she just relaxes on the couch with her arms across the back to wait for her cuddles. Atsumu tips her head back with a sigh, just breathing in the comforting scent of Kiyoomi’s apartment: fresh laundry and their meal and the lingering smell of Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi’s honey-flavored lip balm might be Atsumu’s new favorite scent under the taste of umeshu and sweet potato ice cream she’s now tasted on her lips.

From her vantage point Atsumu sees Kiyoomi emerge from the bathroom and suddenly wonders if she should go brush too. Kiyoomi hadn’t had a problem while kissing earlier but they have time and Kiyoomi keeps spare toothbrushes for Atsumu just so she doesn’t have to race next door after eating when they’re just hanging out.

“Omi,” she says from her position, “d’you need me to go brush my teeth?”

Kiyoomi shakes her head as she comes to the back of the couch, sinking the fingers of one hand into Atsumu’s hair to scratch lightly.

“I was actually thinking—” Atsumu whines petulantly when her touch leaves, lifting her head to watch Kiyoomi walk around the couch. Instead of joining her, however, Kiyoomi flicks the living room curtains closed with a quick movement from a flexible wrist and turns on the floor lamp, nudging the coffee table away from the couch. Then she sinks to her knees on the plush rug in front of Atsumu, who finally notices Kiyoomi is holding a towel in her other hand. Atsumu stares down at her, mouth agape.

“Since you like watching my mouth so much, I thought you might enjoy feeling it at the same time too. If you can multitask,” she challenges with a sly grin. _What the fuck, no way_.

“Omi, are you suggestin’—”

“Only if you want it,” Kiyoomi interrupts. Atsumu takes in her serious eyes and the red blooming down her neck but she knows Kiyoomi wouldn’t suggest anything she wasn’t one hundred percent willing to follow through on.

“‘Course I’d love it but you don’t hafta, Omi! I thought you might just wanna make out more and that’s totally enough for me.”

Kiyoomi places unflinching hands on Atsumu’s knees, eyes darker than Atsumu has ever seen. “Atsumu,” she falters but continues more confidently, “I definitely don’t have experience but I want to show you how much I love and want you. I need you to clearly tell me if you want me to eat you out or not.”

“Omi!” she bursts out scandalized. Of course Kiyoomi would just come right out and say it.

“I would stop at any point if you changed your mind,” the gorgeous woman between her legs supplies earnestly and Atsumu has to laugh at the ridiculousness of a situation she never could have imagined herself in. In what world would anyone have ever bet on Sakusa Kiyoomi, collegiate MVP and division 1 rookie right after graduation, on her knees in her own apartment calmly asking to eat Atsumu out. Fucking unbelievable, but then most things related to Kiyoomi are as far as Atsumu is concerned.

“Do you trust me?”

“ _Yes_.” Of course Atsumu trusts Kiyoomi with her everything. “But are you sure?”

Kiyoomi smiles her most beautiful smile that shows her dimples. “I’m unequivocally positive about everything _you_ ,” she answers honestly. God, Atsumu is so in love.

“Then,” her voice cracks, and she would be embarrassed in any other situation but this is _Kiyoomi_ , “please—”

“I’ve got you.” Ah, that was what the towel was for, Atsumu thinks, watching Kiyoomi fold it in half and she stands up to allow her girlfriend to cover the couch cushion. Smart.

Kiyoomi places her hands on Atsumu’s hips before she can sit back down, thumbs swiping softly over her skin under the thermal shirt. “You should take off your pants now.”

“You’re seriously killin’ me, Omi,” Atsumu laughs, giddy and deliriously in love. But she doesn’t feel embarrassed about baring her body to Kiyoomi as she steps out of her joggers and folds them over the back of the couch. 

The floor lamp casts striking shadows across Kiyoomi’s face and her dark eyes still shine brightly in the dim light, all pupil. _Hunger_ is something Atsumu is intimately familiar with. 

Kiyoomi still hasn’t released her hold on Atsumu’s hips, shuffling closer to press a wet kiss and bite to her navel that makes Atsumu huff a laugh. 

“I love you,” she breathes and Atsumu inhales sharply, heart full. She doesn’t stop herself from reaching out to cradle Kiyoomi’s head with both palms, feeling her hum with approval.

“I love you.” A suck to a hip bone when Kiyoomi eases the corner of her athletic briefs down and then pulls them off completely.

“I love you.” The pressure from Kiyoomi’s hands gently lowers Atsumu back down to sit at the edge of the couch as she settles between her legs in a seiza.

“I love you.” Kiyoomi maintains eye contact as she leans forward to swipe a gentle lick over her engorged clit.

Atsumu releases a deep moan and tightens her fingers in Kiyoomi’s curls, lost in sensation and emotion.

* * *

“That’s just the way you make me feel,” Kiyoomi pants over where Atsumu is spread open and deliciously flushed for her. 

She presses a kiss followed by a gentle bite into the plushness of Atsumu’s thigh as she looks up at her, delighted by Atsumu’s wild blush. Kiyoomi could put that color in her cheeks every day and looks forward to doing exactly that, licking into the crease of her thigh and hearing a squeak above her. Yes, she could definitely get used to this, too, grazing her teeth over the sensitive skin of Atsumu’s trembling abs.

From this proximity she can _smell_ Atsumu, the faint citrus from her shower this morning and the tang of her arousal that is so strong that Kiyoomi can practically already taste it. This new hunger can only be satisfied by Atsumu, bared body and soul, and her absolute trust in Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi should be embarrassed about the state of her unwashed hair and sleep-stale pajamas, and she would be if this were anyone but Atsumu. But here, at the height of their physical and emotional vulnerability, Kiyoomi only feels safety and bliss, sighing as Atsumu threads strong setter fingers into her hair instead of just cupping her head with her palms. All ten fingers, because Atsumu values control over herself and gives her all to her spikers; here is no different.

Enough teasing. Kiyoomi telegraphs her intention by running her hands down Atsumu’s legs and still revels in the hitch of her girlfriend’s breath when she drapes those magnificent thighs over her shoulders, Atsumu’s hips lifting slightly off the couch from the position. With her hands now available Kiyoomi supports Atsumu under her lower back with one arm and traces reverent fingers across Atsumu’s wet lips with the other as she twitches. She presses that hand onto Atsumu’s pubic mound to circle her clit with a thumb, her nest of pubic hair a cushion beneath Kiyoomi’s palm.

Kiyoomi licks into Atsumu and she gasps out gratifyingly loud in the silence of the living room, entire body taut under Kiyoomi’s mouth and hands. The headiness of having this monster setter and professional athlete, her best friend and now girlfriend under her fills Kiyoomi with pride and desperate eagerness to please her.

God, the taste and heat of Atsumu is unreal as she licks deeper, Atsumu’s physical arousal viscous and deliciously sharp like her favorite drink. One day, ideally as soon as possible, Kiyoomi wants to lay Atsumu out in her bed and eat her out for hours until she learns the very best way to touch Atsumu and can drive every insecurity about them out of her mind, even if momentarily until the lust and pleasure clear. 

Although maybe she’s doing a better job than expected if Atsumu’s increasingly louder vocalizations are any indication, despite the likely uncomfortable angle of her upper body crushed into the couch. Kiyoomi pulls out of her feast to suck against the entrance and pull Atsumu’s flushed lips into her mouth too, rolling her tongue firmly against them with wide strokes. She switches the rotation of her thumb against Atsumu’s clit, pulling a cry and a scrabble of fingers over her scalp to jerk her closer.

Atsumu’s hips buck wildly and Kiyoomi can make out her chant of, “ _So good, so good, Omi, please!_ ” over the blood pulsing in her ears and the wet sounds of her own mouth on Atsumu. Well, she’s never denied Atsumu anything and isn’t about to start now, finally sucking her clit like she’s wanted to ever since Atsumu had removed her underwear. This is not and will never be a competition, Kiyoomi thinks as Atsumu shakes apart under her, the reverberation of her moans still strong even here against her mouth. Kiyoomi wants to give and give and _give_ to Atsumu, everything that she wants and deserves.

* * *

“Do you need me to stop? Give you more?” Kiyoomi’s mouth is covered in Atsumu’s come when she glances up and she licks her lips instead of trying to wipe it off, sending another throb of arousal through her despite her orgasm. 

“I mean, I wanna try if you’re still game, jus’ not sure if I can— _fuck!_ ”

Kiyoomi buries her face in her groin again, the ends of her sweat-damp curls brushing Atsumu’s inner thighs as Atsumu tightens them around Kiyoomi’s head, and the unexpected additional friction lights her nerve endings on fire. Kiyoomi eats her out with an intensity usually reserved for volleyball, methodical but unpredictable with each lap fine-tuned to Atsumu’s reactions: each sigh, each intake of breath, each flutter of her fingers in Kiyoomi’s hair, each shift of her hips and muscle jumping under Kiyoomi’s hand on her abdomen.

 _This is how I die, and what a way to go_. Kiyoomi manages to pull a faster orgasm out of Atsumu that makes her scream with the overload of sensation and immediately gentles her tongue, pulling off Atsumu’s sensitive clit to simply nose against the wet mess, breath hot in open-mouthed pants. 

Kiyoomi wraps both arms around Atsumu’s lower back as she goes boneless in her hold, trusting her to take care of her, and shifts Atsumu to lay horizontally across the couch even though her legs end up dangling over the edge. It is a short couch, after all.

When she has enough air in her lungs Atsumu laughs joyously and reaches out for Kiyoomi who slides into her arms, her weight warm and welcome on top of her. She doesn’t hesitate to lean up to kiss Kiyoomi gazing down warmly at her, her own tang spreading across both their lips making her jolt in pleasure. They kiss until Kiyoomi sighs and strokes Atsumu’s cheek, probably with the same thumb that had worked magic on her clit.

“I love you,” she whispers into Atsumu’s mouth, not a secret but a promise.

Atsumu’s chest heaves but she won’t cry this time. “I love you, too.” 

They’ll be OK, together.

**Author's Note:**

> no interruptions this time :^) 
> 
> spreading the happy ending for butches in love agenda!! omi just wants her girlfriend to understand how much she loves her!!! (3 parts to go in this series, with more spice to come!)
> 
> follow the writing process on my [side twit](https://twitter.com/kronopriv)


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